


The Waxing of the Wolf Moon

by littlelostcat



Series: Episodic Fic [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Coda, Derek Needs a Hug, Detective Stiles, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Gen, i love sheriff stilinksi, obsessive stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelostcat/pseuds/littlelostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles just found out his best friend has been turned into a werewolf, he needs to know things.  He also just saw Derek Hale, he wants to know things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waxing of the Wolf Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick writing exercise, I want to take a scene and write an additional off-shot scene or an episode coda for all of the episodes. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. Any comments or critic are greatly welcomed :)

Later he would call that afternoon his first AA meeting, and later he would laugh. _AA: After Alpha_. Scott might have been the one bitten, but Stiles was the one about to enter some kind of anonymous group for best-friends-turned-into-a-werewolf-by-mysterious-other-werewolves-because-those-apparently-exist. After practice he’d gone home, eaten dinner with his father, and moved things around in his disorganized mind so that Scott and Werewolves were at the front. _Scott_ and _Werewolves. Werewolves._ Even the word made his body jitter and made a thousand possible questions begin to form. 

His father had left with the warning that he stay in tonight and to stay out of police business. And, being the good son that he was, Stiles had agreed and listened to the cruser pull out of the drive. Then, he got to work.

He locked the front door and felt his heart beat slightly faster _because this was awesomely ridiculous_ , he shut his window and pulled the curtains close then felt his palms begin to sweat _because he was really doing this_ , and then he opened his internet browser and pulled out his spare notebook _because Werewolves. Were. Real._ He spent an hour searching werewolves and wolf hierarchies, and bites and cures. He figured out pretty fast the sites that were Twilight-enthusiasts and those that were crazy-furries (and, seriously, that was just wrong), and then he found the academic crazies who weren’t so much crazy as possibly right. So the consent to bite only needed to be one-sided? Huh. Did silver really kill werewolves, or was that just vampires?

 _Wait_ , he thought giddily and straightened, _were vampires real too??_ He made a note to search out vampires tomorrow, tonight was for the dogs. He smirked and nodded to himself, then clicked another link.

He wrote a few questions about wolves and alphas. Because alphas were a thing; _were they made or born? Would the full moon make Scott fully wolf out? Did werewolves_ wolf out _? Did Stiles need to buy a water bowl and leash? Do werewolves have to deal with fleas, or was that more a once-a-month-concern? What was the cure?_

But with every new tab, his mind clicked back to the woods and Derek Hale. How he’d appeared out of nowhere in the woods, how he'd had Scott’s inhaler as though he’d heard them looking for it. Stiles remembered the fire, remembered the night his father had come home smelling like ash and death. He remembered how his father had sat him down on the sofa and just held tight, sighing into his hair. He remembered the absent Hales the next day. He didn’t have class with them but the school had been painfully aware that two children were gone. Like two small voids in otherwise cramped hallways. 

Stiles looked to his door and wiggled his fingers over the keyboard. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. The son of the sheriff knows the difference between right and wrong and he knew that he wouldn’t gain any new werewolf information. 

But .... he bit his lip and opened a new window in _incognito_ setting so that all evidence would erase when he clicked out. He quickly typed the website before he could change his mind, then typed his father’s name and password. His stomach clenched as he typed out his mother’s maiden name into the password box. The mouse hovered over the Print icon and he twitched as he decided, then quickly tapped down. He watched the police file on the Hale family slowly slide into the printer drawer; then the arson case, and the files for Laura and Derek Hale. There was file another on Peter Hale, he printed that one up as well and put it to the bottom of the pile. He then closed out of the window, cleared his history _just in case_ , and shut the computer down. He put the printed papers in a folder, keeping the pages on Derek out, and tied a rubber band around the folder. Swallowing his nerves Stiles shuffled to his bed and slid the file under the mattress.

Hey if it was good enough for the skin mags, it was good enough for illegally acquired documents on people he didn’t know. 

He settled against his pillows and turned the lamp by his head on so he could read better. He read about the boy with the dead parents and siblings, the boy who had been an average student and a loner. He'd played sports, he'd been on the debate team. The boy who had been the age that Stiles was now. He read about the boy who had been away when the fire had started and the boy who had remained silent while his sister gave their statement. He read his father's notes and Derek’s trek across the country to New York. His father had been in contact with Derek every six months (and probably with Laura; he'd check that out later), just an email to let him know that the case was still open and that the BHPD was still investigating. No new information, no new suspects. Stiles shook his head as he read, _no new suspects_. Would there ever be?

He spent the night unconsciously memorizing the file on Derek; spending longer than he wanted to admit staring at Derek’s file, at his statement, and at the picture of 16-year-old Derek with the haunted, red-rimmed, eyes. The file also included scanned news clippings and Stiles spent too long reading every word, survivor’s guilt seemed to be typed between every line. He knew something about that, and with that thought he closed his eyes and tried to stop his mind from going somewhere it shouldn't. He flicked a glance to the picture of his mother on his desk and knew he was done for tonight.

He slid the papers under his pillow and turned away from the desk so that he faced the wall; the smell of wet leaves and smoke slipping into his mind. Later, he thought he heard his father unlock the back door and walk up the stairs, definitely heard his door click open and the whisper of the wood as his father leaned against the doorframe. He heard his father sigh and wondered if it was because he’d ‘fallen asleep' with his clothes on, again, or because his father had spent another late night at work and not at home. 

He woke the next morning clutching the papers beneath his pillow and a weight in his stomach. So werewolves were real and he was, apparently, about to become an expert on what made them tick. _Awesome._


End file.
